Our Little Problems
by readingafterdark
Summary: University AU - Sherlock is faced with a little problem. After being taken to a party by his roommate, Sherlock spots someone mesmerizing. Unable to forget about the marvelous figure of someone named John, Sherlock thinks he's out of his league. But when a certain someone has a scandal on campus, Sherlock may just get a lucky break.
1. Chapter 1

Hello! I had some odd urge to write a story to match an idea (I spent too much time listening to Eminem recently). So suddenly I found myself realizing that I could totally see John Watson dancing at college parties to Eminem. This might just be me...

Anyway, this is my first AU fanfic and my first finished fanfic for the Sherlock Fandom in general. I know it's most likely trash, but comments are always appreciated!

Disclaimer: I don't own Sherlock (sadly) and I don't own the characters. And finally, please don't mind my use of Victor Trevor. I swear I wrote this literally minutes before sitting down to watch "The Final Problem," and let's just say things took an unexpected turn. I simply used the (updated) college version of Victor Trevor I found in "The Adventure of the _Gloria Scott._ "

* * *

I stared ahead of me, my eyes locked on the figure in front of me.

Leith.

Agile.

Flexible.

Athletic.

Glorious.

The pulsating music and the flashing lights, which so easily irritated me before, suddenly faded to the background of my mind, unobserved for once in this dreaded year. Instead of fixating on the annoyances of the frivolous party, I could only focus on the blond haired bloke in front of me, dancing so wondrously on the dance floor. He was toned and muscular, no doubt a fit athlete, short but assertive. He held his own space on the floor, despite the fact that the girls surrounding him were moving in constantly on him. He seemed not to mind, for he simply danced a little to the left or a little to the right. He kept his space, but didn't ignore the attention. He smiled and laughed at the girls around him, but kept his hands to himself. I couldn't tear my eyes away from the man, mesmerized by his easy flow of dance moves and his natural ease around his fellow students. It was wondrous to watch.

With a touch to my shoulder, I shivered in surprise and broke out of my reverie. I twisted my head around to see the familiar figure behind me, an irritating smirk plastered over his lips. I tried to reign in the look of embarrassment on my face and the tranced look I'm sure I wore before he cut into my thoughts.

"Sherlock, what are you staring at? You haven't moved since I went to go get you a drink ten minutes ago," the man said, peering at me with curious eyes. Flushed, I looked away, staring at a couple in the corner of the room obviously looking for an excuse to leave their friends who were chatting with them. It was so obvious.

"Nothing, Victor," I mumbled.

He gave a disbelieving laugh. He handed me a plastic cup of beer, which I graciously took. I wanted to distract him from his question. I opened my mouth to say something about taking so long to get a drink, but he was too fast.

"Don't lie to me, Sherlock. I may not be as good of a reasoner as you, but I'm not stupid. I'm your roommate. I can tell when you're lying."

I glared at him, trying desperately to look irritated. He held my gaze for a moment, then broke it. I returned my gaze for a split second to the dance floor, just to check. Good, he was still there.

"Ha!" Trevor cheered, jumping in front of me, pointing an accusing finger in my face. My face crumpled in a look of annoyance and resentment. "See, Sherlock? I told you. You were lying. Just now, you peeked back at the dance floor, hoping to see the object of your observation once again. Am I not right?" He grinned triumphantly.

I rolled my eyes, retorting, "My, you're learning. Soon, you can just take over my job."

Victor ignored my sarcasm. "Now, let's see. You were watching so earnestly at something on the dance floor. Is there someone suspicious?"

I didn't answer, my look of annoyance unwavering.

Victor noticed, then shook his head. "I guess that's not it. So did you see something interesting? Deduce anything exciting?"

Still no answer.

He huffed in annoyance, but then a look of sheer excitement and surprise crossed over his features. He turned back to me with a sly grin.

"You noticed someone you like, didn't you?"

I could feel the color draining slowly from my face.

Victor's features changed from excited to just plain giddy. He laughed to himself, smiling from ear to ear as he observed my face. I squirmed under his knowing stare, my gaze shifting from him to the table next to me to the couples on the dance floor to the floor.

"Who would have ever guessed? Sherlock Holmes, the stone cold reasoner, deducer, crime-obsessed mastermind, who has been abhorrent of love since his birth, noticed someone? I never thought I'd see the day!"

I gave him another menacing glare, hoping it would shut him up, but to no avail. My silence and annoyance only spurred him on.

He placed a hand on my shoulder, and turned his gaze to the crowd in the direction that he caught me looking earlier. He hummed to himself as he thought, peering over the various students dancing in the throng of people. I hoped that he would give up on his curiosity and leave the subject , he once again failed to do as I'd hoped. Quietly, or at least as quiet as you could be at a college party, started to point out individuals. "So who is it? The cute brunette with the floral top?"

I shook my head. "An airhead whose failing most of her classes."

He raised an eyebrow at me, and I knew his question without him even asking it.

I rolled my eyes. "Maybe I'd best keep my job from you. Her nails are so long that it would be nearly impossible to do any handwritten assignments without assistance. No one gets nails that long unless they're intentionally looking to impress the opposite gender."

He shrugged, content with my explanation. He looked over the people once more, and designated another. "How about the blonde in the plaid jacket?"

"She's more concerned with her dog and her boyfriend in the military. Not a good idea."

"The girl next to her with the yellow trainers?"

"Lesbian. And she's already hitting on the blonde."

"The redhead with the denim jacket?"

"Freshman."

"Blonde with the knee high boots?"

"You're really bad at this."

He shook his head, dumbfounded. "I thought I picked the best in the crowd, but they weren't the ones who caught your eye. I'm missing something."

I tried to keep my wandering gaze from settling on _him_ , fearful that Victor would pick it up. But try as I might, I let my gaze linger a second too long, and I was caught.

A look of realization passed over his features, his eyes softening and a small but genuine smile replacing his cocky grin. I dropped my gaze to the floor, heat rushing to my ears, and I prayed that he had once again guessed wrong.

"Well, I must say your choice has got a skill for dancing."

My eyes shot up, first peeking at the figure spoken of on the dance floor, then returning to Victor. I knew I must have looked like a deer in headlights. I felt so exposed having Victor discover my secret obsession for the last few minutes.

He laughed and clapped me on the shoulder. "Not what I was expecting at first, but I don't mind." He must have noticed my embarrassment, for he gave me a reassuring smile. "Don't worry, Sherlock. I don't think of you any different. But honestly, it's such a cliche. The posh boy likes the life of the party."

A shot of excitement coursed over me, no doubt showing on my face. "You know him?"

He chuckled at my momentary excitement, but didn't mention it. "Sure. He's a medical student. John Watson, I believe. He's pretty smart, but I'm afraid that's all I can say. I don't know much about him besides that."

I turned my gaze from Victor to the man.

John.

He was still swinging to the music, a thumping rap song meant for dancing. He sang along with the words, his hands in the air with the rest of the crowd. He had a shake in his hips and his feet moved to the music. He moved with such ease and energy that it was compelling to watch. He was invariably the type to get others to gravitate towards him and dance along side him, his energy magnetic. The girls around him hadn't stopped clamoring for his attention, but he seemed to pay them no mind. He danced for himself, but to the benefit of everyone else. Nonetheless, an unpleasant feeling surfaced in my mind when I watched the girls around him, but I tried to repress it.

"So what do you think?" Victor's voice cut in.

"Magnificent," I mumbled, my eyes not leaving the man.

He laughed loudly, and for the second time that night, I broke from my thoughts and looked at the cackling man with a glare.

"That's not what I meant, Sherlock. What do you think you're going to do?"

I stopped for a second, unsure of what to say. I was content enough to sit here admiring him from the sidelines. I never thought about anything else.

"Sit here," I said warily.

Victor looked at me with pitying eyes. "Sherlock, please. This is the most interested I've seen you in something since the time I had to pull you out of the med students' final exam on the human brain before you got expelled. I am not about to let you sit here and let this moment pass you by. He's obviously not here to pick up girls, otherwise he'd be making some moves on the girls that are practically throwing themselves at him."

"I never thought about actually talking to him. I jut noticed him in the crowd. I make it my business to notice things that other people don't."

"Yeah, but what would you want him to come and talk to you?"

I didn't respond.

"Thought so. Listen, Sherlock. There's nothing wrong with noticing someone. It's human nature. It's normal."

"Listen to yourself, Victor. He may be normal, but _I'm_ not."

He just gave me a sad smile. "Sherlock, I think you're extraordinary. And something tells me that just maybe that man may like things to be extraordinary."

I didn't answer him, instead thinking about what he said. I couldn't deny that I would not mind him coming over to talk. I hate to admit it, but I would actually be happy. But the thought of making my way over to him and striking up a conversation put a knot in my stomach and made my palms sweaty. Clear signs of nervousness. There was no way that I would be able to do that. And the chances of him coming over here on his own accord were even less likely. He never saw me, and if he had heard of me, there was a good chance he would think of me as odd as nearly everybody at this school did. There was no possibility for us to meet. I resigned myself to sit comfortably at the outskirts of the party and enjoy the view of him from a distance.

Victor gave a sigh, but realized that he wasn't getting very far. "Well, if you aren't going to go after him, I guess there isn't any way for me to help. Would you mind then if I found Sarah and took her to the floor? I know dancing to this kind of music isn't really your style."

I didn't take my eyes off of John. "Don't worry about me. I'm going to stay here. Have a good time."

With one last searching gaze, he nodded and turned towards the dance floor, no doubt looking for his girlfriend. I didn't mind. Having a view like this was better than dancing myself. I could enjoy myself easily here. And for the rest of the night, I didn't once get up to dance.

The morning after, I laid on my back, feet resting on my headboard and my head hanging over the edge of my bed. Damn these small college beds.

I kept my eyes trained on the ceiling, mulling over the events in my mind from yesterday. I doubted I would see John Watson again, since for the last two years we had not had a single class together. I briefly remember seeing him around campus once or twice, but I never paid much mind before. But last night, he just looked stunning. I couldn't get the image of him out of my mind, which was highly unusual.

I let out a sigh, somewhat relieved but simultaneously disheartened at the thought of the lost opportunity. There was no way that I could have talked to him eloquently had I gone up to him, and I definitely would have felt much too self conscious to dance anywhere near him. And there was no reason for him to seek me out, so I resolved myself to never seeing him again. I could save my memory of him to my mind palace, but that's all I'd get.

A sharp rasp at the door startled me, and I flipped off of my bed silently. Victor had a key to the door, and hardly any people visited the dorm except for Victor's girlfriend and the occasional student looking for assistance. I unlocked the door and pulled open the door.

I nearly fell over.

With a shy smile, the blond bloke peered at me with grey blue eyes. "Hi, are you Sherlock Holmes?"

I just blinked in amazement, my mouth hanging open.

John Watson just showed up to my door.

John came to me.

He gazed at me, his eyebrows furrowing in confusion.

Realizing that he asked me a question, I stammered a reply. "Y-yes, that's me. Hello. And you are?"

He smiled at me and held out a hand. "John Watson."

My hand shook as I took his in mine, giving it a quick and weak shake before dropping it like hot coals.

"So, uh, what can I do for you? Victor is out at the library right now, so if you need him…"

He shook his head, effectively stopping my string of words. "No, I came looking for you."

I immediately felt my blood run cold. Had he caught me staring last night? Did someone else notice and tell him? Was he angry? Embarrassed? Offended?

"You see, I have a bit of a problem," John said. "I was hoping you could be of assistance. I'd like to give you a case."


	2. Chapter 2

Hi guys! Sorry this took soooo long to update. I never thought I would take this long, but school really kicked me in the butt the last few months, so I haven't had much time to edit this. But here's (finally) another chapter that I hope you'll enjoy!

And fair warning, there isn't a whole lot of cute, fluffy, lovely stuff in this scene. This is the exposition, therefore it's really boring. Bare with me and I promise there will be some fluff and angst later on. I just had to set the scene. :)

I hope you enjoy!

* * *

I just stared at the man as he stood in the doorway, awaiting my reply. Here I was, terrified that John, the beautiful man that I had been staring at all night last night and couldn't stop thinking about was here to ream me out. But it was quite the opposite; he needed my help.

After a delayed pause, I quickly nodded my head, possibly too eagerly. "Of course, of course. That's my hobby after all," I stammered, following up with a nervous laugh. I took a deep breath to try and relax myself, but it didn't work as well as I expected. "Feel free to come in. I'll listen to your case, and if I can see a light where others are dark, I'll take your case and give you a solution."

John, who remained enviously calm and collected, just nodded in understanding. "I see. Well, I hope you can make some sense of this case. If you can't give me any advice, I might as well kiss my career goodbye."

Stunned, I just gave him a questioning glance. What kind of trouble did he find himself in that could have such foreboding consequences?

"Well, I'll try my best. Please, come in and we can discuss it."

I stepped to the side and held open the door, motioning or John to enter into Victor and my dorm room. He stepped inside, and I pulled my desk chair out to the middle of the small dorm, facing it towards my bed. I motioned for John to sit in the chair, and he readily did, his back set straight and his feet flat on the floor. In turn, I perched myself on the corner of my bed, trying to look much more relaxed than I felt.

I gave him a quick glance. "Whenever you're ready, feel free to begin your story. Pray be precise as to as many details as you can. They are immensely important."

John just nodded, and he took a deep breath. "First off, I'll tell you a bit about myself. I'm John Watson, and I'm a junior. I currently am majoring in biology and chemistry, and I hope in the future to join the army and be a field doctor."

I nodded, saying without thinking, "I know."

He gave me a perplexed glance. "You know me? I don't remember having any classes with you before."

I felt my face flush with heat, and my eyes skirted to avoid his glance. "No, I don't believe we had classes together." _Although I have seen you before. All last night, in fact,_ I thought devilishly to myself. I said, pointing quickly to a stain along the hem of his white shirt, "I can read your major from the stain along your shirt. It appears to be formaldehyde and silver nitrate. Those stains would be very uncommon for an English major to receive, and your erect and disciplined posture alluded to your military ideals. It was an accurate guess, really."

John peered down and fingered the stain on his shirt, apparently just noticing it for the first time, then he raised his eyes once to me again. "Wow, that's amazing! I guess that's why you're so known here at school. With observation skills like that, I'd be afraid to ever lie to you."

I felt the heat rise to my cheeks once again at his praise, but I tried to shrug it off. "I never really thought anyone liked me very much. Usually whenever I say something and make a deduction, someone tells me to piss off and mind my own business. I figured that didn't make me very popular."

John chuckled, and gave me a knee-weakening smile. "Ignore them. They would come begging you to help if they ever needed help. Be proud of your skills."

I couldn't help the warm smile that I felt on my lips. The constant shears from my classmates at my strange habits and skills usually didn't bother me, but I couldn't always completely ignore them. Thank god for Victor for sticking by me despite them. But now that John was not rebuking my quirks, I felt quite at home. I cleared my throat, and said, "Well, hopefully my skills will come in handy for you. You can continue with your story and I'll try not to interrupt."

John laughed, and gave me a nod. "Well, I came straight from the President's office to here. There, I was accused of stealing the midterm exam from my anatomy class, and the President says that the consequence for this would be expulsion."

I was shocked at the very least. John steal an exam? I knew I didn't really know him, but just by glancing over his clean and easy appearance and knowing of his military aspirations, it was hard to imagine him stealing an exam. And expulsion? The punishment seemed a little exaggerated, but the idea of John being forced to leave in disgrace was something I didn't want to think about.

John noticed the surprised look, and took the cue to explain. "I didn't do it, of course. I would never in my life even contemplate stealing a test to cheat and score a good grade. I believe in hard work, so I never would risk my career to get off easy."

I was happy to hear him deny it.

"Please, Sherlock, believe me. I didn't steal the exam. I need you to help me, and therefore I need you to believe in my innocence."

I gave him a reassuring smile. "Of course I believe you. If you said you didn't do it, you didn't do it."

John let out a relieved breath, and gave a tense laugh. "I wish the president thought like you. But in his defense, the whole story seems to point to me as the thief. No matter how I try, I can't explain how things turned out like this.

"To begin, I have been enrolled in Bio 315, which is known to be a particularly difficult anatomy class. Everyone I know in that class has been having a particularly difficult time in it, but I have been managing well. Besides me, there is one other student in the class that is doing exceptionally well. His name is James Morison. He feels the need to compete with me in the class simply because we are both doing well, and I have to admit I can get competitive with him too. So the whole class knows that there is a bit of a competition between us right now as to who can do better in the class. It was really just a little thing. It never got very serious, and we never really had any problems with each other. It was just a bit of friendly competition.

There's another thing with this class. The professor's name is Dr. Openshaw, and he and I have had a good relationship since I was a freshman. He has taught a number of my classes since then, and he knows of my plans for after college. He tries to help me out by letting me keep important research materials and projects in his office instead of in the labs. He said that way he can make sure they stay safe and are protected when I'm not working on them. To let me access them whenever I need, he gave me a spare key to his office so I don't have to find a maintenance guy every time I want to get my projects. Usually, I try to work on my research on Fridays. My last class on Friday ends at 4:45, so I usually head right to his office around 5, pick up my work, and return it around 9 o'clock."

I smirked. "Well that's one way to spend a Friday night."

He mirrored my sly grin, and retorted, "I have a friend whose in your chemistry class, and he tells me that you spend the same hours, if not more, working on experiments."

My smirk turned into a warm smile, and I gave a little laugh. "True enough."

John smiled again, but then his face turned more serious as he continued his narrative. "So that is the general circumstance in relation to the class and my schedule. So this whole problem started Friday. Apparently, my professor came in to her office on Friday night to prepare for the exam, which is to be given out next week. He got into his office without a problem, but when he went to his desk to grab the exam to copy, it was gone. He searched all through his desk, in his bookshelves, and around his office without luck. He was dumbfounded, knowing that he had locked his office earlier that day. He asked around with a couple of teachers that night and yesterday. By that time, most of the teaching staff had heard about it. None of us were informed, however.

"Then, yesterday night, I had gone out to a party at one of the fraternities with my roommate." At this statement, I had to peer down at the floor to make sure he didn't see my attention briefly shift to the memory of last night's view. "By the time I got back to my dorm with him, I got an email from the President telling me that I had received a referral and that I was being accused of stealing this exam. I was dumbstruck. I had no idea that Dr. Openshaw was even looking for the exam, let alone that they thought I stole it. It also said that I was to report immediately the following morning to the President's office to discuss the problem.

"When I got there this morning, I tried to explain that I had nothing to do with the missing exam. However, they told me that during the previous night while I was at the party, a maintenance guy who we requested to visit our room came to fix our heater. Supposedly when he entered, he knocked off a jacket that was hanging up on the back of the door. When he picked up the jacket to rehang it, a rolled up packet of paper fell out of the inside pocket. He unraveled it, and to his astonishment found the missing exam. Sure enough, the jacket was mine when they described it to me. What's more, they told me that the exam went missing between the time of Dr. Openshaw's last class on Friday at 2 o'clock, and the time when he arrived later to retrieve it, which was around 8 o'clock. During that time, the office was locked, and Dr. Openshaw said he had no trouble getting into it when he arrived later. Therefore, the only way someone could go in and get something was for the thief to have a key."

"And you've got one."

"Exactly. They asked me for an alibi about where I was, but as per usual I had my materials and was working alone in the biology lab. No one saw me go in the office at 5 o'clock, and no one saw me go in the lab either. So they told me that they couldn't prove my alibi, and they couldn't believe me. With all this evidence against me, they told me that I had no reason to lie about my guilt. But when I continued to plead my innocence, the President said that if I couldn't figure out what really happened, I would be kicked out."

"So now you came to me."

"Precisely. Detective work is not exactly my strong suit, but I was recommended here to room 221 in Baker Hall."

I gave a smile. "Well, you have come to a good place. Your narrative was very interesting, but I can't quite say that I know what happened yet. Would you mind if I asked you a couple of questions?"

"Go right ahead. I'll tell you anything you want to know."

I took a deep breath. "To start out, we need to think about obvious suspects. Who do you suspect could have been the culprit if not yourself?"

John thought for a minute, then said cautiously, "If I had to guess anyone, I would say James Morison. He and I have been competing for the best grade, even though the joke has been light hearted. If he really was becoming too competitive, he could have stole the exam to ensure that he gets a better grade than me. He isn't exactly my good friend, but I haven't had any real problems with him, so I don't see how he could go to such great extremes to do better than me."

I shook my head. "Does he have any way of getting into your room?"

"No, he only has a key to his dorm room. Plus, him and my roommate don't really get along, so I don't see why he would let James in."

I nodded, my suspicions proved correct. "That's what I suspected. It has to be someone else. If he couldn't get into your room without you being there to let him in, he couldn't have planted the exam on you. Could you tell me more about your roommate?"

John nodded. "I live with Conrad Jones. He's a junior as well. He plays football and is super friendly. Everyone who meets him loves him. He's always there to support you and to have your back, no matter what. He's pretty good looking, so he has a good amount of friends. I could honestly say that he's the best roommate I could ask for."

I inwardly groaned at this gushing praise for his roommate. The slight bitter feeling I felt towards John's enthusiasm was irritating me, and I tried hard to ignore it. "So he's just all around a great guy. Has he been doing anything strange lately?"

John didn't take a moment to reply. "He hasn't done anything wrong. He's the last person I would suspect to do something like this, especially if it requires framing me. The strangest thing he's done in the last few days was his all around quiet demeanor. He's usually pretty loud and happy, but the last few days, he's been pretty reserved. He hasn't been very boisterous like usual, which was a little odd. He even went so far as to ditch me right after we got to the party last night. He usually loves to dance with me and his friends."

Again, I tried to repress the memory.

"Was he taking Bio 315 as well?"

John nodded.

"And so I assume that he was struggling a bit as well?"

"Yeah, he was having a bit of trouble. I had tutored him a few times in the past to help him out, but he is a super hardworking guy. Although, I do remember him being quite worried about taking this exam next week."

I gave him a knowing glance, but I couldn't help but feel sympathetic.

John looked up at me from his chair, and his face fell. He seemed to come to the same conclusion I did. "You don't think…" he trailed off.

"I hope for your sake that he didn't betray you. But there's only one way to find out. I need you to tell me what the test looked like, if you saw it."

John glanced down at his palms in his lap, visibly deflated. "Well, the President did show it to me this morning, hoping to find some sort of confession. It was a packet of regular white printer paper. The front page was not overly covered in text, just a couple of lines of small black text. The packet was rolled up before, so it was crinkly and difficult to lay flat on the table. I remember that it had a little stain in the corner. It was some brown liquid, probably something like coffee. I remember there was no distinct or clear writing on it. They were hoping to prove my handwriting was on it, but it was a bust. However, it doesn't seem to help me or them. Thirdly, there was this vague smell of cologne on it when I picked it up, but I couldn't place it to anyone. And lastly, I remember there was a couple of really faint pencil marks, but I couldn't read what they said. However, these marks were next to smudge marks in pencil."

I smiled at the detailed list of distinctions that he gave me, impressed with his distinct memory. "Wow, John, you say detective work is not your strong suit, but you did a remarkable job on picking up important details about this single stack of paper."

His priorly somber face lightened a bit at the compliment, which made my smile grow bigger. "Really? I mean the paper looked quite filthy, so I figured it wouldn't be hard to remember. And besides, I can't really gather very much from all that, or at least anything that would help me anyway."

I leaned forward from my spot on the bed, excitement starting to rise in my chest. I said eagerly, "Well you're in luck because I can."

John's face turned hopeful, a reenergized smile returning to his lips. "Really? You think you can help me then?"

I returned his eager smile. "Of course. John Watson, I'll take your case."


	3. Chapter 3

OH MY GOSH. It's literally been forever since I edited this story. I swear I've been wanting to do it for so long, but school got super busy and then college started and lord did I lose track of time. But finally I added more, and even though it's probably crap since I haven't written in forever (sorry again), here we go again. I hope to keep editing and adding to this story in the near future. Anyway, here's some more Johnlock because hiatus is long. Much thanks and love xoxoxo

* * *

"Now John, don't take this the wrong way, but I have to investigate the test myself. You did a remarkable job of describing the exam to me, but I would like to have a definitive look at it to be sure of all the details," I told him as I pulled on my coat.

He rose as well, shaking his head. "Oh please, Sherlock. I was hoping that you would examine it yourself. I'd feel much more confident that way."

I nodded, content that I had a starting point for my investigation. "Please," I said ceremoniously, holding the door open for him, "lead the way."

We started off across campus, John in the lead. He walked me towards the opposite end of campus, where the President's office was located. I followed just a half a step behind him, passing subtle glances at his profile as we walked. His brow was tightly knitted and his mouth set in a frown, no doubt tense about having to face the president once again. I felt a strange sympathy for him, knowing that he was completely at a loss about this grave incident that held such horrible consequences for him. I didn't usually care too much about how or why the people's lives were being affected. It wasn't important and I didn't care enough to make it important. But looking at John and his pitiable situation, I couldn't help but feel disheartened for his grave misfortunes.

John's eyes turned a bit towards me, and they caught mine in an instant. I quickly realized that I had been staring, and I snapped my eyes back forward once again, desperately fighting off a growing heat in my cheeks and the jump of my heart. I could just make out John's gaze turning from innocent to confused, his puzzled eyes searching my face. It was a struggle to keep my eyes ahead and my mouth shut, but I kept walking rigidly forward. I was almost certain that I saw a faint smile touch his lips as he turned back forward again, but I assumed I imagined it.

John gave a chuckle, and I turned back to him, this time my expression puzzled.

"What's so funny?" I asked.

"Oh, nothing. Just an hour ago, I was in this very office desperately defending myself to no avail. And now here I am, about to walk in with my very own personal detective." He turned to me, a pleased grin on his sunny face.

I felt the blush rising to my cheeks again. I was _his_ personal detective? I couldn't help but smile at the confidence he had in me, both calling me his and giving me such a dramatic title as personal detective. I usually fancied myself as a consulting detective, but I wasn't about to argue with John about that. I had no trouble with being personally his.

"Well, hopefully this detective can make some sense of this enigmatical document and get a trail to the real culprit."

John grinned again. "I have no doubt about that. I'm sure you'll figure something out. You're amazing."

My heart felt like it stopped beating. How could he do that to me? My heartbeat is perfectly regular, but here he is making me feel like I ran a whole five miles. I opened my mouth to brush off the compliment, but I was cut off by him.

"And here's your chance to prove it to me." He stepped up to the quickly approaching solitary stone building, pulled open the glass door, and held it open for me. "I have faith in you, Sherlock. You're my only hope."

With a request like that, I took a deep breath, gave him a warm smile, and stepped past him into the building.

I stepped up to the secretary's desk, trying to give off a confident air. I've solved plenty of petty cases for people around school, but they never were of quite this magnitude. Sure, I've dealt with coaches and teacher assistants, but I never dealt directly with a professor, let alone the president of the university.

John stepped up besides me, giving a polite smile to the receptionist. The feel of having John at my side stirred up a mix of emotions; the reassurance of having a poised and faithful companion to face the president with, but also the nervous flurry of self-consciousness and self-awareness.

The receptionist's voice broke my thoughts. "John Watson, correct?"

John nodded. "Yes, ma'am. I've come to see President Grigson again."

She nodded, but turned her eyes to me. "And you, sir?"

I swallowed hard, unsure of what to say to her. "I'm an acquaintance of John."

John, giving me a sidelong glance and seeing my uncertainty, stepped in. "He's a friend of mine, Sherlock Holmes. He is here about the incident this morning as well."

She still gave him a questioning look, but shrugged it off after a moment. "Alright, give me a moment and I'll make sure President Grigson is free. Please feel free to have a seat in our waiting area." She pointed over to the other side of the room, which was lined with sofas and chairs.

John nodded, giving her a brief thanks before wandering over to the specified area. I followed his lead. John plopped himself down onto one of the sofas, leaving plenty of room for me to sit next to him, but I shied away from the idea. I instead opted to pace slowly back and forth in front of the sofa.

"Sherlock," John started after a moment of watching me, "don't be so rattled. You seemed so confident before."

Without looking at him, I answered, "I'm not rattled. I've just never showed my hobby to anyone outside of the student body."

John gave me a surprised look. "You're kidding?"

My stomach sinking at his tone, I stopped pacing and turned to him. "I swear, John, I didn't think it was important. I can still help you, I promise. I won't shy away-"

"Sherlock, it's fine," John reassured me. "I wasn't having second thoughts about you. I was just surprised because you seem to have such beneficial skills that so many people could use your help, even the staff."

I breathed a sigh of relief, content that he wasn't second guessing his choice to confide in me.

"Don't worry about talking to the president," he said. "He's just a man, not a monster."

I would beg to differ.

With that, the receptionist called to us from her desk. "John? The president will see you now. And he said that it's your choice to bring your friend in with you first."

John smiled at me. "Of course you're coming."

I returned his smile and followed his lead as he got up off the couch and made his way down the hall to an open door. He turned into a clean, neat office with a large window, a spacious wooden desk, and plenty of plants. Seated at the desk was an older man, hair grey with age and his face crinkled. He gave John a strained smile of welcome, and then he eyed me curiously. I passed a surveying eye over him, but from what I could tell he was just an ordinary enough middle aged man.

"John, it's good to see you again. I hope you bring better news than last time." The president reached a hand across his desk, with John firmly shook. The president then took his eyes off of John and placed them on me instead. "Hello, sir. I don't think we've had the good luck to meet yet. Who are you?"

"He's my better news, President Grigson," John stepped in. "This is Sherlock Holmes."

I smiled awkwardly and lightly grasped his outstretched hand, giving it as professional of a shake as I could muster. "Pleased to meet you, sir. I'm a junior criminal justice major."

President Grigson gave me a funny look, eyeing me and John together.

"Oh John, don't tell me you think this mere student will be the way to solve this little problem?"

I wasn't surprised by the comment, but John looked positively wounded. "Excuse me, sir, but I believe that Sherlock will be able to provide me with more than enough information to save my career here at this school. I don't care that he's just a student. I have complete faith in his ability to make sense of our 'little problem' when no one else can before I get wrongfully expelled."

I was stunned by his unfettered defense of me, and then my shock melted into fluster. But my concern about his flippant speech towards the president, who he was already in hot water with, quickly overpowered my fluttering heart. I reached out a hand to graze his elbow, hoping to distract his sudden annoyance, but I dropped it back at my side, my self-consciousness winning out.

"John-" I warned quietly, but I was systematically ignored.

"You have to give him a chance," John continued. "He was specifically asked by me to help make sense of what actually happened to the exam. I brought him here to have a look at the exam copy that you showed me."

The president gave John a strained look. "John, you know I really shouldn't be involving more students in this situation than I have to…" he trailed off.

John looked him directly in the eye, his gaze and voice hard. "President Grigson, you've told me that you are proud to know that I'm going to go into the military. You said that you couldn't wait to show new students about my 'success and dedication to my country' and so on and on. Wouldn't it be a shame to expel me when we have a student right here who could figure out who the real thief is? That way, I would still be here as your sales pitch?"

I couldn't help but watch helplessly at this vicious defense of me and the scalding criticism of the president. John was at his whit's end and he was desperately playing for keeps here in the office, knowing that I could be his last resort. I guess he really had nothing left to lose.

After a tense few moments, President Grigson sighed defeatedly, and dropped his gaze to his desk. "Fine. Sherlock, was it?" I nodded cautiously. "Please have a seat. Here is the letter," he said as he reached into his desk drawer and drew out a packet of paper.

I glanced at John, who had a triumphant smirk on his face. He smiled reassuringly at me, and nodded at the packet.

I took it from the president, peering at the front page. It was just as John described it. The whole packet was crinkled and wrinkly, appearing to have been rolled up into a tight cylinder and stuffed somewhere, such as inside a jacket. I pushed it flat on the desk, and looked at it under the lamplight. As John said, there was very little text, just a few lines of black ink. There were various smudges around the page from what appeared to be a graphite pencil, but they did not appear important. There was a small brownish stain in the top right corner of the papers, which would very well be from coffee like John guessed. There were faint traces of writing on the paper. The words appeared to just be random answers and notes, but they did not appear to relate to anything important. However, the writing was smudged in a horizontal fashion into the next letters of the word. It was obvious that the person writing was left-handed.

"Well?" President Grigson asked impatiently.

I raised my eyes to him, but then looked towards John. "John, you did a marvelous job describing and deciphering this exam. Your observations were spot on."

John gave me a smile in response.

"Now, down to the details. John, are you left-handed?"

"No. I'm right-handed."

"Is your professor?"

"No. He's a righty, too."

"Good. This document has vague marks and notes on it that were written by a left-handed person. See how the words are smudged across? It's a tell tale sign that the writer has to drag the heel of their palm across the words as he writes, leaving these traces of smudging."

President Grigson just huffed.

"Next. John, do you drink coffee?"

John nodded.

"How do you take it?"

"Black."

"No milk or sugar?"

"None."

"Another strike. The stain in the corner of this packet looks," I raised the paper to my nose and took a sniff, "and smells just like coffee. However, the marks are very faint and light, which would indicate that there is milk in the mixture. Furthermore, there is a bumpy texture where the sugar grains stuck to the paper. As we said, John doesn't take milk or sugar with his coffee, so it is highly unlikely that he would have spilled someone else's coffee on this exam if no one saw him with it. Do you follow, President?"

He just rolled his eyes. "This is frivolous."

"But there is still more," I assured him. Once again, I raised the paper to my nose, taking a large whiff of the exam. As John suggested, there was a strong smell of cologne on the exam. Being as nonchalant as possible and fighting the heat I felt rising to my cheeks, I leaned in and gently sniffed the air around John. At first he looked confused, but then as the reason for my actions dawned on him, he gave a quiet chuckle. The president, however, was not amused. His black expression grew more annoyed at my odd moves.

With an attempt of a steady voice, I said, "And finally, this paper has a strong scent of cologne on it. As you can see, John wears a completely different cologne. As we decided by the crumpled state of the exam and the location it was found in, it was shoved into the inside jacket pocket of the thief. This location let the paper soak up the scent of the thief, tucked against him as it was. So if it was John who took it, the paper should smell just like him. But as we have pointed out, it doesn't match. Care to check for yourself?" I teased. John stifled a chuckle, but President Grigson just got more angry.

"This little investigation of yours, Sherlock, is quite ridiculous. All of these clues you gave me are circumstantial and mere speculation. And besides, what are we going to do with these trivial facts?"

John hopped to my defense once again. "These facts are far from trivial. Sherlock just proved to you that I was not the one who stole the papers. Doesn't that count for anything?"

"He didn't prove anything. In my book, you still are the most likely suspect. Unless you can tell me who stole this exam, I still believe it was you. I don't want to, John, but all the signs point to you. I have to face the truth."

I couldn't help myself. "But it is the truth! John didn't steal the papers. If we can prove to you who did, are you willing to accept John back into school without any trouble?"

The president nodded. "Of course. He would be welcomed back with open arms. But I highly doubt that you can save him, Sherlock. He's in deep waters right now."

"That doesn't mean that he can't learn to swim," I responded. "Sir, just give us a few days, and we will figure out just what is going on here. John is innocent, I swear. I would bet my own career here that he is."

I felt John's eyes on me, but I kept my gaze trained on the president.

With a sigh, he nodded. "Fine. You have until the end of the week. If you don't figure out who really did this, I'll file your referral and your expulsion will take effect. Don't say I didn't warn you, John."

John gave a small triumphant smile. "Thank you, sir. I swear, we will figure this out. There is more going on here than anyone sees."

President Grigson just shook his head. "For your sake, John, I hope so. Because if not and this is just some elaborate lie, your punishment will not be merciful." I shuttered at his harsh words for John's sake.

"I understand, sir. I will see you by the end of the week," John said before turning and walking out the door. With a quick glance at the president, I followed him silently from the room.

Once we were outside, John let out a loud groan. "I can't believe him. No matter how many times I say that I'm innocent, he just won't believe me. I can't believe that he would think that I would drag you in there just to lie on my behalf."

"I would."

"What?" He asked, giving me a puzzled look.

I realized what I said, and embarrassingly tried to backtrack. "Nothing. Now apparently our case wasn't solid enough for him to believe. The only thing that would be strong enough I guess to convince him is to have a confession from the real thief."

"I guess," he answered. "But the question is how do we find the one who really did steal the exams? We guessed that it was either Conrad or James. But how do we know which one, if either, really did it?"

"Well, are both of them left-handed, drink coffee with milk and sugar, and wear that specific brand of cologne?"

"I have no idea. I think they're both left-handed, but I don't know how they take their coffee or what cologne they wear. Plus, I don't know what their schedules are like, how they would get into Dr. Openshaw's office, and how they put the exam in my jacket in my room."

I gave a sigh. "I guess you're right. But if we can figure out who fits the bill for the thief, we can confront them about their misdeed and hopefully convince them to confess to the president."

"Sounds like a plan to me. But how do we do that? If I start asking pointed questions, don't you think they'll start getting squirrelly and lie?"

I thought for a moment, but then an idea hit me. "Not if we make a plan. Now tell me, John, are there any parties on Sundays?"


End file.
